


all i’ve ever known is how to hold my own (but now i wanna hold you too)

by butmomilovemyboys



Series: the kids from yesterday [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beverly Marsh Knows Everything, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Resurrection, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butmomilovemyboys/pseuds/butmomilovemyboys
Summary: It’s Richie’s jacket he’s got a death grip on. He suddenly clawed at his chest, but found it completely fine. No killer clown wounds, just his pale blue shirt, alibiet stained. But he wasn’t bleeding, and he wasn’t in pain. He looked down at the jacket in his lap. Was he dead, still? Was he never dead to begin with? He un-crumbled the jacket, and smiled very lightly. He touched his cheek, which was also healed.This might have been the weirdest day of his goddamn life.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom & Eddie Kaspbrak, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: the kids from yesterday [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564666
Kudos: 64





	all i’ve ever known is how to hold my own (but now i wanna hold you too)

It starts, as most things so obviously do, with a turtle. 

Eddie assumed he was floating in peaceful darkness until he fell flat on his back, staring up at pure white light. He felt like he was abruptly woken up from a good nap, and he doesn’t get those often. But when he realized that the white light stretched for eons and eons, he was wide awake. He rolled over onto his side, hoisting himself up on one elbow, wincing at how stiff his back was. In his other hand, gripping tightly, was an army green jacket. Well, it wasn’t really  _ green.  _ It was stained all over with what he only assumed was dried blood— and oh, that’s his blood. 

That’s when he remembers it all— coming back to Derry, the Losers, Pennywise, the battle under Neibolt, searing pain through his chest, Richie. Richie’s face, the last face he saw before he...died.  _ Richie. Richie. Richie.  _

It’s Richie’s jacket he’s got a death grip on. He suddenly clawed at his chest, but found it completely fine. No killer clown wounds, just his pale blue shirt, alibiet stained. But he wasn’t bleeding, and he wasn’t in pain. He looked down at the jacket in his lap. Was he dead, still? Was he never dead to begin with? He un-crumbled the jacket, and smiled very lightly. He touched his cheek, which was also healed. 

This might have been the weirdest day of his goddamn life. 

“Eddie,” a voice whispered through the whiteness. 

He jumped, sitting up right suddenly, clutching the jacket. “What?!” 

“EDDIE.” Louder. 

“Yes, I heard you the first time!” Eddie yelled back. This time, he stood up. “Care to explain any of this? Whoever the fuck you are?”

“You’re not dead, if that helps,” it responded. “Far from it.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Alright...if I’m not dead, where am I? 

“Unimportant. It matters more where you are going.”

There was still no sign of who was attached to the voice. Eddie sighed. “Right. And where is that?”

“Back to Earth,” it responded. 

“Are we not on Earth now?” Eddie asked.

“No,” the voice said. “But we’re close.”

“...Okay,” Eddie said slowly. “Who are you? Are you, what, God?”

The voice chuckled. “No, Eddie. I am not God.”

“So then who are you?”

He then gets hit with what he can only describe as pure  _ thought.  _ Rushing images of the universe, stars and planets and life and death. Of suns and moons and...turtles. He’s a turtle. A giant, universe sized, turtle. 

Eddie opens his eyes back open a couple minutes later. He sits back up, his head sore. “You could have just told me!” 

“You were annoying me,” the turtle said, not unkindly. “It doesn’t matter. You’re on your way now anyway.”

“On my way  _ where?” _ Eddie cried, now frustrated. “Earth?”

“I’m granting you and your friends a  _ gift,  _ Eddie. Don’t take it lightly.” There was a slight edge in the turtle’s voice.

Eddie backed off. “Are you...bringing me back to life?”

“Yes.”

“As a gift?”

_ “Yes.” _

Eddie sucked in a breath. “Oh. Thank you.”

“I suppose I should thank you as well. For defeating the clown,” he said. “But this is your one chance. Please don’t mess it up.” 

Eddie felt his eyelids go heavy, against his will. “Mess what up?” 

“Life.” As if that answer solved everything. 

“Mm...okay. Thanks, turtle-dude,” Eddie said tiredly. “Hope I never see you again. No offense.” 

“Make that two of us.” 

And Eddie drifted back into the white. 

~

He woke up next to the collapsed Neibolt, warm and comfortable in the summer sun. His eyes fluttered open, squinting up at the light. He sat up slowly, glancing down at his shirt, which was no longer stained red. Neither was Richie’s jacket, which was still gripped in fist. He took a deep breath—the first one being alive again.  _ Alive.  _

The fact that he was once dead seemed strange to him. He was  _ dead.  _ He bled out and didn’t breathe. His heart stopped. But now he was alive. Reborn. He was able to walk around the world and see his friends again. He smiled up to the sky.  _ Thanks, turtle-dude. You’re a real one.  _

He stood up, wobbling slightly. He looked at the remains of the house. Did they leave him down there? And then he thinks:  _ did they have any choice?  _

Despite the warm sunshine, he carefully put his arms through the too-long sleeves of Richie’s jacket and fixed his collar. He walked forward into the paved street and down the road. He knew he had to go back to the townhouse— who knows how long he’s been dead, everybody could be gone by now. Back to their lives. Back to their homes.  _ Where’s my home?  _ he thought, kicking at rocks under his toes. Not with Myra. No, after everything he’s been through these past few days, he’s  _ not  _ going back to living with his wife. His  _ mother.  _ He can’t stay in Derry either, though. There’s nothing for him there except bad memories and phantom pains. It occurred to him that he didn’t really know where to go. He had no phone (they had left them at the townhouse when they left for Neibolt), no car, and no way of contacting his friends. It also occurred that when he did find his friends, they had no idea he was alive. Explaining that would be fun. 

He passed by the quarry, taking a moment to look over the edge into the dirty water. It was dirtier than he remembered, but still

managed to bring a smile to his face. 

He stuck his hands into the pockets of the jacket. He could almost hear Richie’s voice in his ears, whispering his name as he looked up at him. Eddie remembers his blood on Richie’s glasses. They way Richie was so  _ un-Richie _ when he gently hoisted him up, gripping his shoulder and pressing his own jacket against Eddie’s wound. 

_ Not un-Richie, stupid,  _ he thought,  _ just the Richie you forgot.  _

He remembers suddenly the year they met It first, young and thirteen and just trying to have a normal summer. When he fell through the Neibolt floor and broke his arm. When Richie cradled his face and told him he was okay. Or any other time one of them was hurt, and Richie would  _ change.  _ Any joke out of his mouth was one to provide comfort or to distract them. Eddie remembered now. Sophomore year, when Ben broke his ankle after falling off his bike, and Richie kept his arm underneath Ben, jabbering on about how girls just  _ love  _ boys with crutches, they give them all the attention. The end of Junior year, when Mike failed his Biology final and Richie told him over and over that he was still the smartest of them all. When he let Beverly do his makeup to make her laugh after an awful day. Richie loved his friends, Eddie realized, more than anything. 

A distant day when they were almost eighteen, when he was just him and Richie in the clubhouse, not talking, both laying in that stupid hammock, reading whatever comic that Stan had picked up the day before. 

_ “So,” Eddie began suddenly, “Stanford?”  _

_ Richie looked up sheepishly. “Guess so.”  _

_ “You know, you’re smarter than you let us give you credit for,” Eddie replied after a minute.  _

_ “Nah, I’m just lucky,” Richie responded quietly. _

_ “Oh, c’mon, Rich. I’ve never seen you get below a 95 average,” Eddie laughed. His smile then fell. “You don’t have to be the funny guy all the time.” _

_ “Then who will be? Bill? He can’t even get the joke out in time.”  _

_ Eddie lightly kicked his face. “Don’t be like that, fuckwad. You know what I mean.”  _

_ Richie faltered, something Eddie rarely saw. He sighed and put his comic book down. “I don’t know, Eds. If I’m not the funny guy, who am I?”  _

_ Eddie pondered it. “You’re wicked smart, for one thing. And, for an asshole, you’re nice to people.”  _

_ “Aw, Eddie Spaghetti, you’re making me blush.” He actually was making him blush.  _

_ Eddie rolled his eyes. “Would ya let me compliment you, dick?”  _

_ “Oh, please, don’t let me stop you.”  _

_ “You’re not ugly, I suppose,” Eddie said, only half joking. Richie chuckled. “Point is, you’re way better than just Trashmouth.”  _

_ Richie smiled, genuine. “Thanks, Eddie.”  _

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, finding himself back in downtown. 

He realized suddenly, unfortunately, that he was in love with Richie Tozier, and he had been, since he was a kid. And he  _ forgot.  _

He fumbled into the townhouse, his head foggy with lovesickness. Maybe he did realize it, back in the cavern, when Richie looked at him so  _ tenderly.  _ But then it was too late _ then.  _

It wasn’t too late  _ now. _

He rang the bell on the desk. “Hello?” No answer. “Helloooo?” He continued to annoyingly tap the bell until his fingers hurt. Great, no one was ever around in this stupid down. “Anyone?” 

Suddenly, there’s footsteps behind him, and so quietly that Eddie almost didn’t hear it, was a small,  _ “Eddie?”  _

He whipped around and there was Beverly and Ben, standing awestruck in the townhouse doorway. 

Eddie chuckled awkwardly. “Hah. Hey...guys.” 

“H-Holy fucking shit,” Ben said, eyes wide. 

“You’re-you’re dead,” Beverly supplied. 

Eddie scratched the back of his head. “Yeah...we should talk.” 

~ 

“So, you’re...not dead,” Beverly said, in awe, while Ben rubbed her hand in his. 

“Nope. Not dead,” Eddie responded, nodding. 

“Because a giant omniscient turtle said so,” Ben supplied, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“Yeah, exactly! You get it.” 

Ben looked like he was about to pass out. “Sure. Sure I do.” 

Eddie offered them a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s a lot. I know it is.” 

“Oh, Eddie,” Beverly smiled at him, tears in her eyes. “I don’t even think that matters.” 

She shot up out of her seat in the bar area and threw her arms around Eddie’s middle, and Ben soon followed, draping himself over the both of them. Eddie could feel Beverly shuddering with tears in his arms. 

“I’m just happy you’re here,” she chuckled. “I don’t need a reason.” 

“Aw, guys...I didn’t even know I missed you,” Eddie said. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize to us,” Ben supplied. “We should be apologizing to you.” 

“Why?” Eddie asked. 

Ben pulled away, looking embarrassed. “We left you down there, man.” 

“I was dead, Ben. I—” 

“But what if you had woken up down there, Ed? And not above?” 

Eddie shrugged. “But that didn’t happen, right? So we’re all good.” 

“Richie tried to stay with you,” Beverly said quietly. “He tried to take you with us.” 

Something  _ pinged  _ in Eddie’s heart. “Oh.” 

“Mike and I had to drag him out,” Ben said, looking past Eddie. “Kicking and screaming.” 

Eddie looked down at himself, still in that stupid jacket. He could feel Ben and Beverly’s eyes on him, so he quickly changed the subject. “Where is everyone?” 

“Oh, everyone went back to wherever they were before,” Beverly replied. “Ben and I just came back because he forgot his jacket and didn’t realize until today.” She rolled her eyes playfully at Ben. They locked hands, both of them staring at each other lovingly. 

Eddie looked confused, but smiled anyway. “How long was I gone that you two had time to become a couple?” 

Beverly blushed. “Five days. But this was a long time coming.” She held up their hands to show off the engagement rings on each of their hands. 

“Oh thank  _ God,”  _ Eddie exasperated. “Did you know Richie and I used to place bets?” 

“Bets on what?” 

“Who’d admit it first. So who was it?” 

Ben made a thinking face. “Well, I wrote the poem—”

“Damn, one point for Richie—”

“And I yelled to Bev to say I loved her while being buried alive…” 

Eddie huffed. “Two points for Richie. I always thought it’d be you, Bev.” 

She cocked her eyebrows. “Hold on, I’m still hung up on this bet you speak of.” 

“Oh,” Eddie looked up and thought back into his childhood. “When we were fifteen— Ben told me he liked you and then you told Richie you liked him.” 

“I remember,” Beverly smiled. “Because I knew Ben wrote the poem. I just couldn’t remember once we got here again.”

“Right. So Richie and I make this bet—he gets five bucks if Ben admits he wrote the poem when Beverly isn’t all deadlight dazed,” Eddie started. “And another five if it’s Ben who admits he loved Beverly first.” 

Ben smiled, amused. “And you won if Beverly admitted if she loved me first?” 

“Yes,” Eddie nodded. “And I just lost. So ten bucks to...Richie.” He trailed off and remembered he had yet to tell anyone besides Ben and Bev about his...  _ being alive-ness.  _

“Eddie?” Ben called, breaking him out of his thoughts. “What is it?”

Eddie snapped up to look at him. “I need your car.”

“Our car?” 

“A car,” Eddie stammered. “Yours, someone’s, I don’t know. A car!” 

“Why?” Ben chirped as Eddie downed his whiskey glass. “Eddie, where are you going?” 

Eddie thought for a quick moment before replying: “California.” 

“Okay, cool your jets.” Beverly looked a bit frantic at him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Why are you going to California?” 

“I have to give Richie his jacket back,” Eddie said matter-of-factly “And he lives in California.” He gently shoved off Bev’s hand. He was about to scramble for his belongings when he realized he didn’t actually have any. 

Ben and Beverly stared at him blankly. 

“Couple things, Ed,” Ben stated, grabbing Eddie gently, but forcefully, and sitting him down. “First of all, it takes, like, a week to drive to LA from way out here.” 

“Second,” Beverly continued, “You can’t have our car, because then Ben and I will be stranded in this god-forsaken town  _ again.”  _

Ben nodded in agreement. “And third, no one knows you’re alive. We ought to give Bill and Mike some insight, don’t you think?” 

Eddie looked between their gazes, both like kind preschool teachers telling a toddler not to stick crayons up his nose. Still, Eddie felt compelled to head West, not quite caring about how he got there. But he couldn’t defy his friends, even if he felt that it was at the upmost importance to return the stupid green jacket.

_ That’s not really why you want to go so bad, right? For a jacket? Something else is on your mind. _

The tiny voice in the back of his head was talking to him. He pushed it out of his mind. 

Still under the couple’s condescending eyes, he crumpled slightly. “Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright, man. We  _ can  _ get you to California if it’s really that important,” Ben supplied. “But isn’t it easier if we all come back here?” 

“What are you going to tell them? That I’m undead?” 

“Well, yeah—”

“No, it has to be in person,” Eddie decided, “I-I  _ need  _ to give him this jacket back.” 

The urgency in his voice alerted Beverly. “Okay, okay. Why not try a...plane?” 

Eddie scoffed sadly. “No money. The turtle didn’t have me a check when he zapped me back to life.” He made a face before continuing. “By the way, where’s my stuff? I had a bag when I came…” 

Bev looked slightly defeated. “Richie took it.” 

“Ha!” Eddie beamed. “All the more reason to go to California!” 

“That’s fine, but I’m still not all set with this plan—”

“Ben, I love you, but you don’t get it—”

“I do! But you’re alive, and we need to tell our friends—”

“Ben, honey,” Beverly broke in. “Go fill up the car. We’re low on gas, and the nearest airport is in Portland.” 

Ben stopped quickly, but furrowed his eyebrows. “But Bev—”

“Hon,” Beverly smiled sweetly. “Please.” 

And because Ben would go to hell and back for Beverly, he deflated and smiled a small smile. “Okay. Alright. I’ll be back soon.” 

She returned his smile and kissed him on the cheek as he walked out of the townhouse. Then, she took Eddie by the hands, despite his confusion, and lead him to the stairs. 

“Beverly?” Eddie asked, in a low voice. 

She looked at him softly. “I want to ask you something.” 

“...Okay?” 

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, and I won’t ask you about it again.” 

Eddie gulped, but somehow wasn’t surprised if she knew what he thought she knew, because Bev  _ always  _ knew. He nodded. “Alright.” 

She waited a moment. “It’s...more than returning the jacket, isn’t it?” 

Eddie’s thoughts ran a bit wild. Well, yeah. It was. He wanted  _ Richie.  _ He wanted to make up for 27 years of lost love and tell him what he realized on his way here: he was in love with him. 

“Yeah. There is,” he replied softly, his eyes fixed on the floor. “But I don’t know what to do about it.” 

“Do you love him?” She asked it carefully, not casually, each word holding sentiment. 

Eddie barely hesitated. “Unfortunately.” 

“That’s what LA is so urgent,” she said, placing the dots together. “Because you need to tell him.” 

“I...I didn’t even know it. Not until I died. Bev, am I crazy?” He was actually wondering if he was. 

She chuckled. “No, you’re not. Eddie, I promise you, you’re not crazy.” 

“I feel crazy. Not realizing you love someone for 27 years. When they probably don’t even love you back.” 

Beverly had a twinkle in her eyes. “Well, 

you didn’t see him after you died.” 

“What does that mean?” Eddie asked. 

“He was a wreck, Eddie. We went to the quarry to wash off...and he just broke.” She looked off into the distance, as if remembering something she wished she hadn’t seen. 

“Broke?” Eddie echoed. 

Beverly nodded. “Someone asked him about you...Ben, maybe. We turned and he was just… crying.” 

“That doesn’t sound like him,” Eddie said. 

“No, it was the most un-Richie I’d ever seen him. And we held him and…” she trailed off. “Tell me, have you ever seen him cry?” 

Eddie thought for a moment. “Once.” 

It was late at night, sometime in their sophomore year. Three rocks thrown at his window. Richie stood in Eddie’s backyard, his body shivering in the chilly March air. Eddie, a bit reluctantly, had pulled Richie in through his downstairs bathroom window and snuck him upstairs. That’s when Eddie saw his pale face and watering eyes. 

_ “Richie?” Eddie gently sat Richie down on his bed. “Richie, what is it?”  _

_ Richie didn’t respond. Instead, he melted onto the floor, and curled his knees up to his chest.  _

_ “Rich.” Eddie placed a hand on Richie’s knee.  _

_ “I didn’t know where else to go,” Richie replied quietly, his voice muffled in his knees. “Bill lives too far and Stan’s out of town.”  _

_ “That’s fine, Richie. Just tell me why you’re here.”  _

_ Richie laid his head back against the mattress, and his face was flushed and clammy. “I don’t really know, Eds. I think I broke something.”  _

_ “Like a bone?” Eddie replied, a bit terrified.  _

_ “No, no, a thing. In my house. And my dad got mad.” He stressfully put a hand to his face. There were tears falling down. “But I can’t remember.”  _

_ “Okay, okay,” Eddie prodded, taking Richie’s face with his hands. He gasped. “Rich, you’re burning up.”  _

_ “Huh?” Richie sniffled.  _

_ Eddie sighed as he put his hand to his forehead. “Dude, you’re on fire. No wonder you can’t remember!”  _

_ “Oh.”  _

_ “Yeah!” _

_ Richie wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I didn’t think I was sick.”  _

_ “Let me go get my medkit,” Eddie offered.  _

_ Richie looked up with beady eyes. “But, your mom?”  _

_ “She’s going to pocketbook party in a few minutes. She won’t be back until late.”  _

_ “Okay.” He sniffled and closed his eyes. “Eddie?”  _

_ Eddie turned on his heel. “Yeah, Rich?”  _

_ “I’m sorry.”  _

_ “Don’t be, dude,” Eddie smiled. “You’re my friend.”  _

_ “Thanks.” Richie pressed his palms into his eyes. “But if you tell the others I cried on your floor, I will kill you.”  _

_ Eddie chuckled. “Noted.”  _

Eddie chalked it up to exhaustion and lack of fluids. He didn’t ask Richie what his dad did, nor did he mention him crying. He just took his temperature  _ (“102? Richie, why didn’t you come sooner?”)  _ and spoke softly. They never mentioned it to each other in the morning as Eddie snuck him back on the window, but he does suddenly remember the urge to kiss him goodbye, and being angry at himself for thinking that. 

Beverly’s eyes are still on him, so he offers her some insight. “We were 16. He was sick.” 

“Exactly. He never cries,” Beverly concluded. 

“I think he did. Or does,” said Eddie. “We just never knew.” 

“Well, we’ve got another shot,” she said. “Let’s not mess it up.” 

And Eddie really doesn’t want to mess it up. He was too much of a coward the first time around, and he really doesn’t want a repeat. He doesn’t know what’s waiting for him in LA. He doesn’t even know if Richie will return any of the feelings that Eddie has. But he’s not scared anymore. 

“Well, I am technically still married,” he said, changing the subject abruptly. “You did tell Myra I died, right?” 

Beverly bit her lip. “Um, no.” 

“Why?” And when Beverly didn’t answer, Eddie realized. “Did you forget to tell her?!” 

“I’m sorry! There was a lot happening!” 

“But you didn’t tell my  _ wife  _ I  _ died?”  _

“It’s only been five days!” She argued. “It’s a good thing too, considering you aren’t dead!”

Eddie said, exasperated. “Fine. Fine.” 

She smirked at him and put an arm around him. “We can deal with that when we have to, alright?” 

“Alright.  _ Alright,”  _ Eddie caved, letting out a smirk of his own. Then, having remembered his dilemma, he groaned and pressed the base of his hands in his eyes. “God, what am I  _ doing?”  _

“You’re in love, Eddie,” Bev told him. “Who the hell knows what you’re doing?” 

“So you’ll help me get to California? I have no money, Bev.” 

“Eddie,” she laughed. “We will pay for your ticket, okay? We’ll all go together.” 

“Bev, I can’t ask you to do that,” he said. 

“How else do you plan on getting there?” 

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows. “Beverly—”

“You can pay us back after.” 

“Fine.” 

Beverly smiled. “Ben will be here any second. We’d better get going if you want to make it to LA by today.” 

“Are you sure this is okay? Will Ben be okay with it?” Eddie asked, letting Beverly take his hands as they stood up. 

“Are you kidding?” Her eyes scrunched up as she laughed. “You and Richie weren’t the only ones placing bets when we were kids.” 

And before Eddie could even respond, she was giggling her way out of the townhouse. 

~

Eddie prided himself on not being afraid of planes. Bill always was—always arguing that planes were a “war against gravity” and “a war he didn’t want to lose.” Eddie wasn’t afraid of the flying; he was always just grossed out by the  _ everything  _ about it. The seats, the aisles, the food, and especially the bathrooms.

But now, as he sat in the window seat, next to Beverly and Ben, he wasn’t afraid of flying or the bathrooms. He was afraid of seeing Richie.

He couldn’t plan what he would say. There wasn’t much he  _ could  _ say. 

_ “Hey, it’s me! Your dead best friend! I’m not dead! Also, I love you!” _

Yeah, like that would work. He gripped the sides of his seat tightly, his thoughts running a mile a minute. Bev looked at him every now and then, smiling her perfect Beverly smile. Ben, the sweetheart that he was, simply let the two of them plan their visit—which only consisted so far of crashing in Richie’s couch. Ben simply nodded and smiled and watched Tangled on his phone. None of them really brought anything—B-Squared had their phones and wallets and Beverly’s purse, but Eddie still had nothing. 

By the time they ended up in LA, Eddie still didn’t have a script for Richie. Maybe he’d just have to wing it. Would he let Ben and Bev in first? Would they send him alone? What about Myra? Was she looking for him? He hoped not. If he was honest with himself. He never really loved her. She was just a subconscious figment of his mother— one he learned he could do without. But, even he didn’t understand the feeling until now, Richie always made him feel different. He made him feel all flushed and dizzy, even when they were teenagers. Myra never made him feel anything like that. 

“What’s on your mind, Ed?” Ben asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You look a bit pale there.” 

“Oh, you know,” Eddie began, resting his forehead on the window of the taxi they were in. “Just coming back from the dead and stuff. Normal day.” 

The taxi driver gave him a look through the rear view mirror, to which Eddie just stared him right back until the driver turned his eyes back to the road. Eddie had never been to California before. He stayed mostly in New England until he moved to New York for college. He traveled to Kansas to visit Myra’s family once, but other than that, he had never left North East. So, besides the stress of trying to explain his resurrection, he kind of enjoyed the California landscape. He’d never seen a desert before, or the Pacific Ocean, for that matter. He couldn’t help but start to imagine a life here. A life with  _ Richie  _ here. It’s nothing like he's used to and he’s  _ terrified  _ of it, but Richie said it best. He was braver than he thought. If things worked out how he’d hope, he was facing it head-on. 

He’s surprised when the taxi driver pulled up to grubby looking apparentement building. They file out into the street, and Eddie stares at the two of them. 

“Where are we?” He asked. “I thought Richie was, I don’t know, at least a somewhat famous comedian.” 

“He’s taking a break from the limelight,” Beverly replied. “He gave me this address before we all left Derry.” 

“Did he tell you why?” 

Ben smiled sadly. “Fighting killer clowns and having two of your best friend’s die kinda puts a damper on things.” 

Eddie nodded because he should have inferred that. “Do you think he’s home?” 

“Probably,” Bev said. “He said we were welcome anytime.” 

“Then let’s go.” 

~

In a final decision, Eddie decided to be the one to knock on Richie’s door. 

“We can wait downstairs, if you want,” Ben offered. 

“Maybe you should,” Eddie replied. “Don’t want to freak him out.” 

“Good luck, Eddie.” Beverly kissed his cheek. “We’re both rooting for you two.”

Eddie chuckled as they walked down the stairs, but it soon went away as he faced with number 237. There was no peephole, no mail slot. So when Richie opened that door, he wouldn’t be prepared for Eddie at all. 

Eddie pressed his knuckles against the door and knocked twice. For a moment, there was no noise behind the door. Then suddenly, the door is swinging open, and there’s Richie. 

For a moment, they just stared. Richie stood there with his lips parted and his eyebrows raised, and Eddie was probably making just about the same face. 

“Hey, Rich,” Eddie said, finally. “We should talk.” 

And before Eddie could say anything else, Richie slammed the door shut. 

_ “WHAT THE FUCK!??”  _ Eddie heard Richie scream, muffled by the door. 

“Richie, c’mon! Open up! Let me explain!” 

“You’re dead!” Richie responded. “I watched you die!” 

Eddie sighed. “I know. I was there!” 

“You’re not real.” Richie sounded a mix of heartbroken and angry. “I’m dreaming—or high. Or both.” 

“Richie,  _ please  _ open the door. Let me explain.” When Richie didn’t move, Eddie opened the door himself instead. Richie just stood and looked blankly at him, tears running down his face. 

Richie pointed an angry finger at him. “You died. You got fucking _ shishkabobbed.”  _

“I did, Richie, I did.” Eddie approached him like you would a sick animal. “But something brought me back.” 

“Something?” Richie echoed softly. “Eds, this is  _ fucking _ insane.” 

Eddie agreed. “I know. But there’s this turtle—”

_ “A turtle??”  _

“Yes, listen. A giant omniscient turtle, right? And I woke up from death I guess? And this giant voice spoke to me and said—”

“I need a drink.” 

“—that he was rewarding us for beating Pennywise, and I…” Eddie looked down at himself, realizing he was still in Richie’s jacket. 

“Is that mine?” Richie asked quietly. “How do you have that?” 

“I woke up with it. I’m telling you, Rich. I’m telling the truth.” Eddie moved closer to Richie, who didn’t move away. “I came to return it to you.” 

Richie gulped. “You came all the way to California to give me my jacket?” 

“And to get my stuff you took,” Eddie smirked. 

Richie looked like he was about to burst into tears, but instead ran into Eddie and wrapped his arms around him. He felt him grip his arm and shake with sobs, but Eddie squeezed him right back. He felt his own tears prick at his eyes, and before he knew it, they were falling onto Richie’s t-shirt. 

_ “Eddie,”  _ Richie gasped. “God, I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, fuckface. I flew across the county for you.” 

Richie pulled them apart, but gripped Eddie’s shoulders. “Wait, how the fuck did you get here?” 

“Ben and Bev are downstairs. They found me in Derry and got me here,” Eddie responded nonchalantly. “I haven’t told Bill or Mike though yet.” 

“You full on Jesus-ed and you didn’t tell our friends?” Richie exclaimed. “Did you guys actually just hop on a plane and come here?” 

“Yes, what about that are you not getting?” Eddie said. Richie didn’t say anything to him, but he looked at him so adoringly that Eddie thought he might melt. 

“Richie?” Eddie asked. “I want to tell you some—”

And Richie kissed Eddie gently but  _ passionately _ , making the world stop for the moment that it happened. Neither of them wanted to be the one to pull away, so they don’t. It’s a while before Eddie decided he needed to breathe that he pulled away, reluctantly. He looked up at Richie, who looks both terrified and dizzy and happy all at the same time. 

“I love you,” Richie whispered. 

“I know,” Eddie responded, a smile blooming on his face. 

Richie chuckled, a bit hysterical. “Did you just Han Solo me?” 

“Yes,” Eddie said. He intertwined their fingers together. “So it's a good thing I love you too.” 

“Wait, Eds, you’re still married,” Richie realized. “What are you going to do about that?” 

“Divorces exsist, stupid,” Eddie responded. 

“Oh,” Richie agreed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

All the stress that Eddie has built up over the last few hours disappeared, and he happily put himself into Richie’s arms, who let him, just as happy. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” Richie said. “I wrote our initials on the Kissing Bridge, dude.” 

Eddie laughed. “I wish I realized sooner. Wish I realized it was you I wanted.” 

“Well, apparently, according to a giant omniscient turtle, we have all the time in the world,” Richie promised. “All of it.” 

“Agreed, but if we’re gonna be living with each other, it’s  _ not  _ going to be in this hellhole. It’s dirty and obviously hasn’t been inspected in forever, it’s completely unsafe—why are you looking at me like that?” 

Richie looked like he was drunk. “I love it when you talk clean. I want to kiss you again.” 

Eddie huffed out a breath. “Then what are you waiting for?” 

~ 

Richie sprinted down the stairs, where Ben and Beverly stood awkwardly. 

“Thanks for the heads up, guys,” Richie said, fake-annoyed. “When dead people show up at your door, you know it’s a party.” 

“Sorry,” Ben said, a smile on his lips. “Eddie was adamant we do it in person.” 

Eddie trailed behind Richie, their hands interlocked. Beverly gave him a knowing look. 

“Well, someone call up Bill and Mike. We’ve got reunions to do,” Richie decided. “And I need to find a new apartment, apparently.” 

“It’s  _ gross  _ here, Rich. Disgusting.” 

The two couples stood facing each other, and it was Beverly who broke the silence. “So, who was it?” 

“What?” Eddie asked. 

“Who admitted it first?” She continued. “I need to know.” 

Eddie and Richie looked at each other. 

“Me,” Richie admitted, looking both defeated and relieved. “After I kissed him.” 

“Damnit,” said Beverly, at the same time Ben said, “Yes!” 

“What’s this all about?” Richie pondered. 

“Beverly now owes me ten dollars. Fork it over, babe.” Ben made a grabbing motion with his hands. 

Beverly rolled her eyes. “Alright! You win.” 

But all Eddie could think was  _ no, I won.  _

~ 

Eddie and Richie’s beach house sits in a way that they can watch the sunrise every morning without having to go very far. It’s a pretty place, decorated with Maine sea glass and pictures of their friends. A little bit of home in a far away place. The dog that sits at their feet is, of course, named Stan. The record player plays  _ Be My Baby  _ by The Ronettes. The mailing list for the wedding invitations that took way too long to design sits on the kitchen table. Two men sit on their couch, not worrying about anything in the world. 

A little green reptile sits contently in its bowl. He’s a reminder. 

It ends with a turtle. 


End file.
